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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354357">"ibn Ibrahim"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estel/pseuds/Estel'>Estel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Child Abuse, Corporal Punishment, Disfigurement, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Homosexuality, M/M, Memory Loss, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Past Violence, Punishment, no betas we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:42:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25354357</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estel/pseuds/Estel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Joe thinks hard about the only remaining memory of his father and how a moment of cruelty marked him forever.</p><p>(could be either universe probably? but I wrote it with the movie universe in mind...)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>"ibn Ibrahim"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first attempt at writing Joe, including his complicated origin point in history. While I am semi-learned in late 11th century Islamic cultures, I am, in no way, an expert. If you run into anything here that does not seem right or feels offensive in any way, please drop me a note. I would like to write more (especially as I read more) but I do not, in any way, mean any offense or mean to misrepresent. We do better together. &lt;3</p><p>Also, yes. He does have this scar. No, I don't know why because I'm 90% sure its not Marwan's? So this is the why my brain generated to make me (and now all of you) sad.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The spotted old mirror of Safehouse Echo did no favors in the dim, yellow light. Especially when sleeplessness drove him awake before dawn and all there was to see by was a light they all agreed was worse than lighting a match. It cast dark shadows beneath his eyes and under his nose. It painted every crag of his marred cheek that he traced with his finger absently.</p><p>For all the numerous times Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani had been stabbed, wrenched, and blown apart, it remained.</p><p>---</p><p>Under the blistering mid-day heat, he knelt in the sand, pleading with a face he had somehow not forgotten in a thousand years. His hat fell off as he bowed his head low and begged.</p><p>He was only a boy that day. Not a single black hair had graced his face and no part of him felt manly as he pleaded with Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani.</p><p>“I cannot have my son defile the teachings of the Prophet,” he said from deep in his chest so the whole avenue could hear.</p><p>What he spoke of was not some great defamation of the Quran. It was not even something uncommon in their world. What Ibrahim disliked was that it was <i>his</i> son who was discovered looking at men too long as they bathed. What was worse: he would not say why he did it.</p><p>Assumptions, not all of them incorrect, followed and so, before all those that would see, Ibrahim pushed his only son to the ground and raised his fist which clutched a heavy stone.</p><p>“Father,” Yusuf muttered through thick tears. “Father I am still your son.” He then bowed his head and accepted what was to come next.</p><p>The stone struck the earth and Yusuf looked up in amazement, but Ibrahim was not smiling back with any radiant forgiveness. “You have disgraced me.”</p><p>The older man raised his bright, flashing sword from its scabbard to his son’s cheek and with a single flick, carved a long line down the left side of his face. Blood immediately poured down the blade and people in the street were muttering amongst themselves in astonishment of the brazen act of violence against the boy by his father, but Yusuf could not hear them.</p><p>He had set his jaw as to not cry out, even as tears streamed down his face and mixed with the blood in the cut, making it burn all the more.</p><p>Ibrahim then vanished inside of their business, leaving his son to bleed alone into the dirt.</p><p>He would pry himself up - either absent of any assistance or unable to discern anyone offering any - and stagger home, covering his face.</p><p>---</p><p>For all the memories lost to time, the one that stuck to him that allowed him any clear memory of his father was that. A thousand years on and Yusuf ibn Ibrahim ibn Muhammad ibn al-Kaysani was forced to remember Ibrahim al-Kaysani only by the mark he left in judgment.</p><p>A mark that would never fade.</p>
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